Two Real or Tarnished Silver AND Where We Went Wrong
by PoolofFadedMemories
Summary: These are two old stories of mine that for some reason, I never uploaded to the site. They are seperate, and yet slightly join together at the end of the story and both take place shortly after the failed transmuation of their mother. Takes place in either anime and/or manga. Both contain Brotherly!EdxAl
1. Where We Went Wrong

Where We Went Wrong

I wasn't able to sleep that night, even though my soul felt like it was aching with weariness. I sat down in the dark hall, the light falling on me when it shone through the slit from the door. I was too confused and tired to try to think about what had happened to me – and I was too worried about Brother to think about much else. I stared at the floor, my huge hands over my knees, waiting for Granny and Winry to finish – for someone to tell me that he was going to be ok.  
Brother had lost both his arm and his leg when we tried to bring Mom back that morning. I lost my whole body and then Brother had attached my soul to a suit of armor, even after his leg had been taken away. He had given up his right arm to get my soul back, even though my soul had already been taken to the gate with my body.  
So I sat there, my eyes staring at the floor unblinkingly. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't blink, and I couldn't feel my hands touching my knees. I couldn't feel anything. Brother screamed as Winry and Granny quickly hushed him so that I wouldn't hear. I grabbed at my legs tightly, trying to hide my face, but that didn't help the pain or the sounds to go away. They were bandaging Brother, trying to stop the bleeding before he bled to death. I had done the best I could with my clothes that I would never wear again, but. But the blood wouldn't stop, no matter how tightly I tried to tie the bandages, I was afraid that he was going to bleed to death right then and there. I was so scared that I couldn't even think for a few moments, as he bled on the floor, his hand clutching at where his arm used to be.  
I had been surrounded by pools of blood, Brother's blood running down the floor in red ridges. I managed to bandage him, but I was afraid they wouldn't stay on. So I lifted him into my arms and ran for Granny's, tripping some along the way awkwardly in my new body. I almost stumbled and fell, just managing to stop and regain my footing. The stumble jostled Brother around, hitting his wound where his arm should have been against my hard metal chest. He screamed out in pain, the sweat standing out on his brow. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep the tears and screams at bay so that I wouldn't have to hear them. Just seconds later, he fainted from the extreme pain, his hand still clutching at his arm bandage. I made it to Granny's a few minutes later, my fear and long legs lending me speed.  
"Please, you have to help him," I pleaded, "He's going to bleed to death." I felt like I was crying inside, even though the tears could never come down my face.  
"Is that you Al?" Winry had asked in bewilderment.  
I came back to reality as I heard Brother scream again as I sat in the hall. I gasped, even though it was just the sound. You can't inhale sharply without vocal chords. Brother whimpered, the sound tugging at… at my soul. I shook, my soul crying and aching through the long night as I waited. Helplessly.  
Winry came out sometime later, her housecoat pulled over her thin shoulders.  
"What are you still doing up Al?" she asked, her large blue eyes concerned. I guess she hadn't expected to meet me in the hallway, where I probably heard everything that had been going on in there.  
"I guess this body won't let me sleep," I said sadly, my head dropping back down.  
"Oh," she said quietly, pulling her white robe tighter around her. "Well, it's almost midnight, so Granny is sending me off to bed now," she finished awkwardly.  
I had to know what was going on with Brother. I looked up quickly, trying to read the expression on her face. Was it sad, or was it relieved, or I don't know, something!  
She gave me a tired, yet reassuring smile. "Ed's going to be just fine Al, you'll see. You got him here so fast with those bandages on him that he'll be ok," she said cheerfully.  
I tried to believe her; I really wanted to, but I was too shaken up and remembered Mom's death too vividly to be able to force myself to.  
"Yeah," I said listlessly, staring back down at the floor again. Winry looked like she was about to say something, but then turned away, running to her bedroom and shutting the door with a bang. I hid my face again, trying to think about something, anything but what had happened today. I didn't succeed.  
That was the most miserable night I had ever spent in my armor – the first one, when I was alone and I had nobody to talk to, and I couldn't even see Brother yet. It was pure torture.

The next morning I got up with the sun – and I literally mean 'got up'. I stood up awkwardly, the ground seeming a mile away. I had gone from being a ten year old boy to a full grown man in one day; with the height at least. My hands were so huge – they were as big as Brother's head! It was so weird, and I felt so clumsy suddenly, standing in this body that wasn't really mine.  
Granny had slept in the room with Ed, taking care of him all night long. It was a wonder she got any sleep at all. I turned the knob slowly, hoping that Brother really was ok. I had to see him – I couldn't wait anymore! I peeked inside, only to see Granny standing right in front of the door, her hands on her hips.  
"Ah! Granny!" I cried, scared and not sure what else to say. She smiled up at me suddenly, even though it was a very sad and tired. She sighed, shaking her head as if to say, 'What am I going to do with you?'  
"I thought you might want to see him, so I wanted to let you in myself, but you already seem to have done that," she said. "You can come in and see him Al; he asked early this morning in his sleep where you were. I think he's waking up now anyway, so now's the time." I nodded my head, coming into the room and closing the door behind me.  
I looked over at the bed. At first I couldn't make Brother out because the sunshine through the window was shining so brightly that it made the whole bed seem to glow. I came closer, trying to keep my metallic, ringing footsteps from being loud as they clanked against the floorboards. I walked through the curtain of sunlight, all of my vision lost for a moment. Then I could see him, I could see Brother!  
My soul's eyes widened, and I gasped. I had almost forgotten how pale he had looked; how tired and worn down he was. He looked so lifeless lying there on the bed, his face nearly the same color as the sheets and the bandages on him, that I was scared for a minute.  
But then he moved his head towards my side, his eyes squeezing shut and then opening into tiny slits as he woke up. He squinted and then rubbed his eyes with his left hand, trying to adjust to the sudden light.  
"Is that you Al?" he asked as I bent down closer so that I would be more at his level.  
"Yes Brother, it's me," I said quietly as his eyes adjusted. I wonder what it's like to wake up to a suit of armor staring down at you – who's your younger brother.  
"Hey – I was wondering where you had gone off to," he said, a smile on his face. There was pain being covered by that smile, and after that I learned how to read pain in any face, even in those who try to hide it so well behind a mask.  
"I was so scared," I said, suddenly ready to cry as he smiled up at me. "I thought you were going to bleed to death Brother… I thought I was going to lose you too!" I said, hiding my face in my hands as my whole body shook. That was the first moment in the suit of armor when I really wished that I could cry, that I could vent my emotions in some way. Some human way – a physical way.  
Brother's face became sad as he heard me talk about it. He started to reach out, to tousle my hair and tell me that everything was ok, that it would all work out and that it was over now, when he realized that he didn't have that arm anymore, and that I didn't have hair either. He put his head back, letting it sink into the pillow. He smiled up at me, something wet glittering on the edges of his eyelashes.  
"But it's ok Al, I'm ok now," he said, his voice sounding strong, steady, and commanding, just like my older brother's voice always had.  
My shaking soon subsided, and I felt guilty for having done that in front of him. I shouldn't have burdened him with any of my grief – he had enough to worry about. Suddenly and without warning, Brother grabbed at his stump of arm and bit back a cry of pain. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to keep from screaming. I didn't know what to do – what should I do?  
"Brother?" I asked, failing to keep the fright out of my voice.  
"I'll be ok," he said between clenched teeth as he clutched at the sheet with his hand.  
In a few moments the pain subsided, and his hand relaxed, the white knuckles not standing out so painfully anymore. He lay back down, a sigh escaping his lips. Beads of sweat stood out of his pale brow, and he looked up at me with a reassuring smile.  
I didn't know what to say. It seems that I never do.  
"So – how's everything going?" Brother asked, trying to make me not think about what had just happened.  
"I-I'm not sure…" I said, turning my head away so that I wouldn't have to meet his eyes.  
"What's wrong Al?" he asked, instantly worried about me.  
I didn't want to have to tell him – to tell anybody about those lonely nights by myself, to have to admit that I was scared and alone. "I can't sleep – my body won't let me," I said softly, turning back to look at him.  
Brother winced as he heard those words… 'My body'.  
"Oh," he said, staring down at his sheets.

Granny scooted me out of the room not long after that. Brother's eyes had dark circles under them, and he looked wane and more tired than when he had woken up.  
"'Bye Al," he said as I left the room, a smile on his face as he waved good bye to me with his left arm.  
I choked back a sob as I left. Brother always used to wave with his right arm. Closing the door as I said, "'Bye Brother – I'll see you later."

I ran down the hall towards the back bedroom where it would be dark and nobody would be able to find or disturb me.  
So that's where I am right now, trying to figure out where we went wrong.  
What was so wrong in wanting to have your mother back? What was so horrible about being willing to do anything – even give up your life for a family member? Like Brother for me…  
He had sacrificed his arm for me, had been willing to do anything to get me back; just like he had been willing to give anything to get Mom back.

It's freaky to have a suit of armor for your body, with only your soul attached to it. I can look down and see inside of me – I can see everything, every nook and cranny as I look down inside myself. My soul fills all of the armor, but if a part of it is missing my soul only fills what is left. It's an odd concept to have to explain to people, because you can't see or feel a soul, but it takes up room all the same. So when people say, 'If you can't see it, hear it, or feel it, it doesn't exist,' I don't believe them, because even when I am quiet and can't be heard I know I still exist.  
I can look down and see into myself, and then my soul can look out of the helmet and see the real world outside that I can't feel or smell. It's like having two sets of eyes – one for seeing the inside of you and one for seeing the outside of you. I was examining the outside of myself with my soul's eyes when I noticed something I hadn't before. I stood there, frozen to the spot. I couldn't move, I couldn't think.  
I let out a shriek as I stared down at myself, covered in Brother's dried, red blood.

Winry rushed into the room at the sound of my scream. I stood there, my hands shaking as I stared at myself.  
"What is it Al?" she asked worriedly as she ran into the room.  
"I-I…" I stuttered, my speech slurring. I lifted my hand up to my face as I stared at it in horror. "I'm covered in blood!"  
I was a ten year old boy who woke up in a strange body… covered with his own brother's blood.

I managed to calm down enough so that Winry and I could wash it off with rags. I couldn't smell the blood, but the sight of it almost made me feel nauseous – if you can feel nauseous without a body. The water turned red as we scrubbed away.  
I caught Winry sniffing as she wiped me down, trying her best to try not to show that she was crying. Trying not to cry as she washed Brother's blood off of a suit of armor who used to be a boy; who used to be able to feel, to be normal; I wished I could cry with her.

It wasn't until the next day that I got to see Brother again. He had had a fever the night before, and Granny had sat by his side all night. But Brother had changed. His eyes held a haunted look in them; like he had seen something indescribable. And he had.  
They seemed to have lost all of the fire that had burned in them all those years; they looked defeated. All that was left was the golden pool of liquid misery, glittering with life but then fading away as memory took hold. Sometimes different things would make Brother take an interest in them, but that would soon pass away back into the void that was his eyes. We thought we had killed Mom by trying to bring her back, and by losing her a second time we lost ourselves.  
What were boys as young as us to do when we were faced with that horrid reality – that we might have caused her the pain of death a second time?  
I know that I became depressed and quiet, not speaking unless spoken to. But Brother – he was crushed, like his soul had died. He never talked, even when Winry asked him a question. After a while he and I just didn't talk at all. We felt like we had done the ultimate crime; and we were suffering our punishment – the one that we had dealt out upon ourselves. There is no worse punishment that can sting more than the one you inflict upon yourself.  
Of course I couldn't be silent or depressed all of the time; my soul just wouldn't let me. After Brother began to heal I made sure that he was put in his wheelchair everyday and I would push him around outside. I think that these walks did both of us a world of good by showing us that the world was still going on around us. Even though so many things had happened life and death were still going on in their never-ending cycle, and after a while our lives would be able to move forward too.  
But the first time I took Brother out we both came back more hurt than healed. After that I was almost afraid to take him back outside again because it had depressed us both so much. It had reminded me how my life had changed – I couldn't smell the aroma of the flowers, the grass, the dirt. That I couldn't feel the breeze upon my face, blowing my hair and bangs around so that they would brush against my forehead; it reminded me that I couldn't feel the grass whipping around my ankles and legs as I walked, that I couldn't run barefoot in the grass anymore or feel the dirt or mud between my toes. It reminded me of what I used to be and had taken for granted.  
I think that it hurt Brother more than it hurt me, though. Whenever he saw a flower, grass twirling in the breeze, or the trees up on the hill that stood before our vacant house, he thought of Mom. Mom had loved nature, and we had too. But now it made us depressed because it reminded us of her.  
I think I was also a problem when it came to this walk. With every metallic, hollow-sounding step I made, it just reminded Brother more and more of what had happened to me. It wasn't until a little while later that I understood that he blamed himself for what had happened to me – and that that was why seeing me sad and depressed made him even more introspective. But it wasn't just that. By being had to be pushed around in a wheelchair he felt that he was even more of a burden; he was the one who should have been protecting me, and he had failed. He was the one who was supposed to be the older brother, and now he was depending on me for his mobility. You have to understand that for anyone to use a wheelchair they need at least two hands – but he didn't have even that much.  
Having to be pushed around like a decapitated invalid who had to rely on his younger brother, whose life he had wrecked, ruined, and made miserable with his body was more than he could take. I came back from that walk gloomy, sad, and depressed. Brother had picked a pink flower along one of the walk ways and had suddenly burst in to tears, his sick body shaking as he sobbed. We hadn't talked on the way back, but we knew exactly what the other was thinking and wanted to say. That's just the way we are.  
One day we had gone out for a walk, as I had concluded that Brother needed some sunshine – he was getting so pale as he sat or lay around, cooped up in the house. We came back somewhere around teatime, the sun setting to our backs as I pushed Brother back up to the house. I was sad and thoughtful that day, quiet. I wasn't exactly moody and depressed anymore; a fact that delighted Winry to no end. It had been hard on her to see us like this, but I was coming around. And as you'll see, so would Brother.  
I had taken up the habit of just standing behind Brother after I had rolled him into the living room. Sometimes I felt like I just blended in with the furniture, like I was just a hunk of armor there for gathering dust. But today was different.  
The sun was shining through the window, making yellow squares of light on the floor and on Ed and me.  
And that's when he walked in.  
I've never seen anyone angrier in their whole life over what we had done. After this episode, no one ever yelled at us for our sin, for committing the ultimate taboo. But he was the one who should have yelled at us if no one else.  
He was a military officer, a young man with black hair and dark, serious eyes. I shivered when I saw those eyes; they were cold and hard with sternness.  
"I saw what was in the house; I saw what you did in there!" he shouted as he pulled Brother up by his shirt. "You tried human transmutation – didn't you?" he yelled at Brother in rage and fury. We knew what we had done was wrong; we had lived up to the truth of the matter. Brother looked up at the man, his eyes empty of anything; a deep, dark pit filled those eyes.  
"We're sorry," I managed to whisper, shakily. I put my hand softly on his shoulder. "We're sorry!" I said again, my voice quivering as my soul began to cry.  
The young man's eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at me, his features shocked. His eyes had softened into a look I now know well; his sternness is just a cover-up for something deeper.  
"A soul bonded to a suit of armor?" he asked in an incredulous whisper.  
And that's who brought the fire back into Brother's eyes; that brought the purpose and resolve that were such a part of Brother back into his being. Colonel Roy Mustang.

Because of Colonel Mustang, Brother finally made up his mind on something that had been bothering him for awhile. His new resolve didn't surprise me much, even though it pained me to even think about it. However, it did surprise Winry and Granny considerably. It was a possibility that they had pondered before, of course, but it was the kind of thought one usually pushes back into the inner most recesses of the mind, trying to pretend it never existed.  
I had tried to push the idea away, tried to never think about it. But whenever I had to pick Brother up and put him in his wheelchair for him, and then push him, we both knew we were thinking the same exact thing but wishing never to voice that thought. It would cause both of us such great pain, both good and bad, that one decision. Brother knew it would hurt me more than him.  
Brother had made up his mind to get auto-mail.  
I remember some of the things that happened before Brother managed to get his auto-mail arm and leg. That was when he was fully recuperated a little while after Colonel Mustang dropped by, when he was finally excited about something again. I was excited too, because Brother was finally acting like his old self again. There was something so indescribably depressing about Brother before, but now he was back to his inspiring, burning self – full of life. Where's there Hope, there is Life and Where there is Life there is Hope.  
One of the things that happened was completely unexpected to me, but I should have known that it was coming. After losing limbs there are still some things that happen to a person that few people know about and even fewer people wish to speak of. It is something that still haunts Brother to this day, even though he has never mentioned it to me since right before he got his auto-mail limbs. But we both thought about it at the same time whenever it happened. Sometimes I forget that he is plagued by the pains, so that when I remember I feel guilty for forgetting.  
Brother had phantom pains from his missing limbs. It all really started one morning when Brother was finally able to sit up in bed on his own – even though sometimes I would straighten him up because he started leaning to one side. The sun was shining brightly after a few days of grey, cloudy skies and rain, so Brother was enjoying its warmth, and I its light. I could almost feel the warmth of that light, making my armor warmer than its usual clammy coldness. We were just sitting there resting, when Brother put his hand up to his face – he always used to do that with both of his hands in the morning, and then he would rub the sleep from his eyes with his right hand. Suddenly he gave a sharp gasp, stared at his only hand, and then clutched at where his arm should be.  
That was the first time he felt the hand that wasn't there. His body's memories had triggered feelings, had made the senses think that his missing hand had actually felt his skin beneath the fingertips. He had thought for one moment that his arm and hand had actually been there, that he had been normal again. Brother wiped at his eyes with his left hand, an awkward action for him. He turned his face away from my searching gaze, laying his hand back down on the sheet as his breath shook. But he couldn't hide the fact that the back of his hand was wet, the water sparkling in the light as he cried.  
I didn't really understand what had happened. I was confused and hurt; confused because I didn't know what was going on and hurt that Brother was keeping his pain all to himself again – locking it up like he always did. Brother didn't want to speak about it, but after a little while he finally opened up about it. On the other hand, Winry and Granny had been expecting this, as most people who have auto-mail suffer from these phantom pains and feelings. Nobody ever really finds out because 'auto-mailers' tend to try to keep this a guarded secret. Only other auto-mail engineers usually get 'in' on this secret.  
The phantom pains were not subject to only his arm or even hand though – they still come when Brother least expects them, from his missing leg and foot. Sometimes as Brother lay in bed he would feel the blankets lying on his skin, or he would feel his foot moving as he walked. The phantom foot that is. It was especially hard for him to deal with this while he was getting used to his auto-mail – it was like having a limb back that he could move, but a phantom limb had been replaced, and thus the illusions of feeling were fake. It was terrible for him to deal with at times. It was like having ghost limbs that could feel only half of the time – whispers and wisps of feeling.  
I remember one time when Brother was sitting outside in his wheelchair, resting because he was tired from reading and researching on the Philosopher Stone so much. He leaned his head back, allowing his eyes to drift closed. His face relaxed, the stress lines on his forehead disappearing. Brother always wrinkled his brow as he studied, one hand usually propping his head up as he pored over the text. He sighed, his shoulders falling back. Sometimes even I forget that he is only one year older than me, the way he acts. My soul's eyes softened, realizing that his body was tired. I wish mine could be; my soul certainly was tired enough.  
Then it happened again. Brother had just laid his hand down carelessly when suddenly he could feel his other hand resting on his knee too. He later told me that he could feel every finger, even his palm clearly and acutely felt touching his knee in the way that he knew so well. His eyes flew open, bewildered and shocked – even scared. I stood up quickly, stumbling awkwardly on my feet. Brother turned his head towards me, frightened maybe that he had scared me. He was always thinking about how to protect me, even when he was the one whom he should be thinking of.  
"It's nothing Al," he said quickly, trying to hide up what had happened. I nodded my head slowly so that he would know that I had heard him. But I wasn't convinced. I noticed that on the way back home as I pushed him up the winding path that he kept clutching at where his arm should be. I wasn't fooled, and that's the problem with us two – we both knew it.  
Then came the time when Brother was well enough and strong enough to get his auto-mail. I knew it would be pointless to try to make him change his mind, and I'm afraid to say this, but I must admit that for the next few days remaining before the surgery I moped about a bit. I would be found, sitting alone by myself in the dark, not really wanting to talk about it to anyone. I was too scared to talk about it with Brother, even though I knew he understood me completely. I think that's why one afternoon he asked me to push him down in the wheelchair to the river.  
I was surprised. Brother hated being in his wheelchair and would much rather have sit or laid down in bed, thinking about things. So for him to ask me to put him in his wheelchair was like him declaring that Leprechauns exist (which is something we used to fight over when we were boys. I won that one). I was only too happy to, of course, so I lifted him up into my arms and set him down gently in his chair. But seeing him like that in my arms, his limbs missing, only reminded me more sharply of what he had agreed to just do. It wasn't the auto-mail I was afraid of, it was the procedure. I didn't want to be in danger of almost losing him again. Auto-mail mechanics are geniuses in their own right, taking pride in their helpful work that betters peoples' lives. But sometimes, just sometimes, as in all other parts of the medical field, someone could lose their life during the procedure.  
And I didn't want to lose the only family member I had.  
Brother looked up at me as he adjusted the blanket over his leg, his eyes worried. The breeze played with his bangs as he looked up at me expectantly, waiting. His golden eyes, the ones that were usually so fiery were liquid, were now worried and not in the least bit as grown up-looking as usual. He nodded his head understandingly, as if to say 'We'll talk about it once we get to the river.' I just let out a little sigh as I bowed my head, slowly pushing the wheelchair down the well-worn path. I turned back to see Winry watching us from the balcony off of her bedroom, her blue eyes gazing after us as our backs walked farther off towards the edge of the horizon.  
My feet seemed to clank more loudly as I walked, my body moving slowly and heavily as if it could sense how my mind was feeling. I shouldn't have been surprised – even without my facial features to give me away Brother could always tell what I was thinking and how I felt. And he also knew that my favorite thinking place was the river, where the sound of the water can soothe me and clear my mind. It was always good for my soul to hear that sound, and it always seemed to reflect my mood – swiftly moving, always running its course, glistening and sparkling but dark and shadowy in the deep pools. On the other hand, Brother usually preferred sitting under a tree or hiding somewhere where no one could find him. Except the only problem with our hiding places was that we both knew where to find each other just out of instinct; we knew each other too well.  
The breeze was picking up more, and sometimes it would blow through the cracks in my armor, making a high-pitched whistling sound. I tried to ignore it, but it was a cold reminder of what I kept trying to forget – that I was hollow inside. Brother shivered, covering up the action by pulling the blanket tighter around him. He was always trying to keep me from feeling bad, like it was his duty to be the one who should shoulder all of the guilt and the pain that comes with that. I walked faster, trying to keep my mind off of it. Even though I couldn't feel the wind, I could feel the effects of its twirling, toying games.  
A few leaves scuttled in our path; reminding us that autumn was almost over. It was nearing December, and soon the country surrounding us would look brown, ugly, and dead. I shivered, thinking of what it was going to be like this year if Brother was going to be recuperating from getting his auto-mail. I would have to spend all of those cold, dark nights all alone by myself.  
Winter depression was beginning to close in on me, and I could almost feel its cold hands reaching out for me.  
Then we broke through the line of trees, and what stood before us was the beautiful sloping, grassy bank of the river. The river gurgled and sang like it had a secret that it was murmuring over and over that no one could quite catch or understand. It hummed softly to me as we walked up, sparkling and winking as it called out. The sunshine played on its surface, playing hide and go seek, or maybe even tag with the river's waves. Those two are best friends, dancing and playing together; the two greatest sources of life, laughing and glittering at each other.  
My spirits lifted some as I gazed at that happy scene. There was joy here, the kind of joy that only nature can sing about even when it is going about its daily business. I pushed Brother slowly along the bank, looking for a place with some level ground. The wheels spun slower as I pushed the chair along the sand, making marks where we had walked. There were two wheel marks and two deep impressions from my feet sunk into the sand behind us.  
I found a place where there was some level ground with grass growing on it where Brother's chair couldn't begin to roll away or move while we talked. I rolled the chair up the slope and then stopped. We were finally here and now I didn't really want to talk about what we had come for.  
"Al, why don't you come and sit over here?" Brother asked while motioning to his left side, forcing a small smile onto his face. I shook my head miserably, wanting to just wake up from the nightmare my life had become. I walked over to his side and sat down heavily, the dry grass bending beneath me. The breeze blew the long grasses this way and that, making them look like poor souls who were lifting up their hands to heaven as they writhed in pain. I stared down at my hands which were lying in my lap.  
"Now I know why you like to come here so much Al," Brother said, gazing out over the river. "It's quiet and peaceful." I nodded my head, not looking up. Brother sighed as he noticed that I was still sad and quiet, not even taking much interest in my surroundings.  
"Alphonse," he said. I looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. He never calls me Alphonse unless what he has to say is really important. I do the same; I never call him anything but Brother, unless it's so important that I call him Ed. I've never called him Edward in my life. That was Mom's name for him.  
"What?" I asked so softly that my voice was barely audible. Brother reached out with his left hand, leaned sideways in his wheelchair, and rested it on top of my head.  
"It's going to be ok, you'll see. I'm not going to give up on Life and I'm not going to let it give up on me," he said. My soul's eyes widened. How does he always know exactly what I'm thinking, exactly what's bothering me, even when I try keeping it from him?  
"Just promise me you won't die – I don't want to be alone!" the little ten year-old me cried out. I grabbed at the wheelchair's arm, my soul's eyes begging him.  
"I won't let you be alone. I'm not going to die, I promise Al," he said.  
"Ok," I said. That's all I wanted to hear.  
Brother rubbed the top of my head softly, and I remembered the last time he had done that. When we were sitting on a grassy bank together, wondering if Mom was going to be ok. I leaned my head closer, and Brother tucked his arm around it.  
We were going to stay together, no matter what.

"Al?" Brother asked, pulling me to the present. I guess my thoughts had wandered off as I had stared at nature around me.  
"Yes?" I asked, looking at him.  
"I guess the reason I brought you to the river was so that we could talk and figure things out without anyone else around – with no one butting in or anything," he started. My soul smiled. Brother knew how much I hated the idea of talking to him about these things with other people around us, listening. Brother cleared his throat a little nervously. "But I also wanted to tell you something important, Al. It's just that, I…"  
I sat patiently in the grass, waiting. What did Brother have to say that was going to be so important?  
"Al, I blame myself completely for what happened to you… that night," Brother managed to say as he stared at the twirling water of the river. But I don't think he was seeing the water.  
"Wha…?" I sat there for a moment, trying to take it in. But Brother wasn't to blame for what had happened! Why would he feel it was? I shifted my weight so that I was leaning on my left arm. I guess he could tell that I was about to say something when he shook his head no.  
"Just let me finish ok Al? Hear me out." I nodded my head slowly, even though what I really wanted to do was to tell him that it wasn't his fault at all. "I, I have to find a way to fix what I did to you," Brother said as he closed his eyes. I think he was seeing that night replay over in his head, like I was. What he had done to me? But, but it hadn't been his fault – he hadn't done it me! We had done this to ourselves.  
"So that's why I have to get auto-mail, Al. I have to become a state alchemist so that I can get at their libraries full of research. I have to find out if there's a way to get your body back." By now I was sitting quite still, my mind and thoughts whirling. I put my hands up to my head as I tried to understand, an old habit that I never lost, even when I was in the armor.  
"But, Brother…" I said slowly in almost a whisper. I stared out in front of me, and then I shook my head from side to side like I always do when something is too hard for me to accept.  
"Al, I have to get auto-mail," Brother said firmly. His fist was clenched, the way it always was when he was determined about something. I stood up slowly, shakily. My legs seemed unsure of themselves as I turned to face him.  
"No," I said softly. "No, no you don't." Brother opened his eyes wide as he stared up at me. "Look, I can't feel anything anymore Brother," I started. I paused, noticing the hurt look that immediately came into his eyes. I had meant it positively, but it was like I had stabbed him in the back.  
"I can't feel pain, I can't get hurt," I continued hurriedly. "But, but you're the one who's in all the pain. You're the one who lost two of his limbs. I can't feel anything at all and you're the one who's gone through all of the hurting. And now you want to go through more torture for me? You already gave up your arm to save me. No, no I don't want to see you go through anything more while I stand helplessly by, not able to even feel the slightest pain at all for you."  
Brother was quiet, his eyes staring down at his lap.  
"I won't let you get hurt again just for me," I said desperately. His head snapped up.  
_"Alphonse,"_ he said. That one word. My name.  
"I just can't watch it anymore, knowing that I can't do anything!" I cried out as I sat back down. I picked up a pebble next to me and threw it as hard as I could into the lake, like I was trying to throw all of my troubles and angers away from me. I was a helpless ten year old kid who had woken up and watched his older brother almost bleed to death right before his eyes. I had seen him slowly recover over months of hoping. I didn't want him to go back to the edge of the cliff, doing a balancing act between life and death.  
"I just can't watch anymore," I said as my voice trembled and my shoulders began to shake. "Not anymore," I said as I covered my eyes with my hands and shook my head. I was trying to shake away the images that danced before my eyes.  
"Al, I…" Brother said, trying to talk. But he didn't know what to say.  
"Every time I see you, moaning in a fever or crying out in your sleep because you're too sick to be conscious of anything around you, I get scared. I get really scared Brother. It's like when Mom was in her fevers and wouldn't come out. I keep telling myself you'll be ok, but just looking at you is like watching Mom die again," I said, finally getting all of my pent-up feelings off of my chest that I had been thinking on for so long now.  
"I don't know if I could stand watching you like that again," I whispered. "I know you promised me you're not going to die, but my soul aches every time I see you lying there…"  
I didn't know that Brother had begun to cry.  
I realized suddenly that this was frightening for him too. He was scared, and now we both knew it. Brother; you're so strong, trying to always keep the fright and pain from showing through to anyone. He had been trying to look brave, to look strong and sure so that my fears would be calmed some. He had been trying to keep me from worrying about the auto-mail surgery more than I had to. Brother knew what he was going to do, and deep inside himself he knew that he was scared. He was scared for the same reason I was.  
He might not make it.  
Then I realized, sitting there, just how courageous he must really be to make himself do it; how much he must love me to be willing to put his life on the line so that he could get this done, so that eventually he could find a way to get my body back. He's the bravest eleven year old boy I've ever met.  
I don't know why, but seeing Brother sitting there crying in his wheelchair made him look so small, so vulnerable. Ever since that night, I had been in this suit of armor. There was something I hadn't done for months that I felt I needed to give Brother right now. So, standing up I said softly, "Come here," and before he knew it I had picked him up and put him on my lap.  
That was the longest hug I think I had ever gotten from Brother. I needed that hug just as much as he did, as he laid his head down on my chest and shut his eyes tight. I held him close to me, and it reassured me, somehow, that everything was going to be ok.  
After a few minutes, Brother leaned back in my arms, letting his back relax. He wiped the tears away from his face with the back of his hand, pretending that they weren't really there.  
"Al," he said slowly, looking straight up at me. "I have to get auto-mail, to get both of our bodies back. And I have to become a state alchemist to do it."  
"I guess so," I said, nodding my head hesitantly. I thought for a moment. "But then, Brother, shouldn't I become a state alchemist too? That way I could try to help you get your body back…"  
"No Al," Brother said firmly, cutting me off. "It's already bad enough that I have to become part of the military, but I don't want you to too."  
"But…"  
"No buts. I have to be the one to do this Al; we don't need two of us to. Just one." He smiled suddenly. "And hey, once I get my state certification, then we can really start learning more about the secrets of alchemy and if there's a chance to bring your body back."  
"And yours too, Brother," I said quietly as we both gazed off into the sunset. We now had a goal in life, one that would drive us for many years to come.  
We had to get our original bodies back, no matter what the cost.

We began to walk home, our moods completely changed from how they had been when we had started out. Brother was no longer completely quiet, but talked enthusiastically about how he was going to get through the healing process faster than I could imagine and then he was going to get my body back. I wasn't gloomy and sad anymore, I was happier and walked lighter (if that's really possible when you're armor), though I was still nervous about the up-coming surgery.  
I guess after talking for a while on our plans I had gotten quieter, and Brother noticed it. He stopped talking, knowing that my mind was on other things. He leaned back as far as he could in the wheelchair, searching for my face. His eyes were serious and also slightly worried, I noticed, as our glances met and hinged on the other's.  
"Are you going to be ok when I get my auto-mail surgery done?" he asked me quietly. I slowed my pace, pushing the wheelchair slowly.  
"You should be worried about yourself, not me," I said with my head bowed. Brother sighed as he sat back against the chair. We rolled on for a few more minutes in silence, the thudding of my feet echoing as I walked. Suddenly I stopped, making Brother look back at me.  
"I'll be ok," I promised, bringing a smile to his face.  
"That's what I wanted to hear," he said softly. We walked home through the many crimson-colored leaves strewn about our feet, the light painting them fiery golds and flaming reds as the sun burned the sky blood red behind us. The golden shine falling about us seemed to match Brother's hair perfectly, to me. The breeze had blown itself out, and now the sunlight was making the world warmer than when we had first set out. I could even feel the warmth, I imagined, through my armor as it warmed my blood seal.  
Autumn was ended, but that winter was one full of promise, hope, and life. We had a mission, and we were going to see it through.

My optimistic thoughts had begun to be replaced by more negative ones during the few days before Brother's surgery. I didn't talk all that much; everyone knew that I was dreading the surgery more than Brother. As Brother once later told someone else, he wasn't optimistic, he was just stubborn. For a ten year old who has 'lost touch with the world', it isn't easy to be positive about surgery of family members.  
We both knew that it was going to hurt with an indescribable pain, and we both knew that it was going to take him a while before he could do anything again. I remember one afternoon when I asked Winry why she wanted to be an auto-mail engineer. She had looked confused at first and then had answered with her huge smile, "To help get people back on their feet." Winry did that for Brother literally, and figuratively. Without his auto-mail procedure, I am positive that Brother and I wouldn't be who we are today. Seeing Brother go from the guilt-ridden, half-dead boy in the wheelchair who was visited by Colonel Mustang, to seeing him come alive with fire and energy, ready to get this chance at helping set things right, I can see why Winry does what she does. I can also see why someone would want automail too.  
For the next few days, Brother spent as much time with me as he could. He still had to rest and sleep a lot, and he often dozed off without a moment's notice when his eyes began to get tired. It seemed odd to me to see him able to just fall asleep anywhere he was, but that was later explained. Brother was sleeping for both his body and mine; that is why he got tired out so easily and would rest whenever he could. He hadn't always been like this, of course. Brother was the kind of little kid who played through the whole nap and could barely be persuaded to go to bed on summer nights.  
Those days are still golden ones, shining out to me in my memory. We made a lot of plans and talked about what we were going to do after Brother had recovered from his auto-mail surgery. We also took a lot of walks outside, taking books with us that were full of the knowledge of alchemy. We would sit in a field, sheep grazing nearby, and I could almost imagine that things were normal, the way they had been. But then it would be time to go and I would stand up in my armor shell, and push a decapitated body down the road in a wheelchair.  
We were still little boys, but things had changed drastically that would never go back to being normal.

A scream filled the whole house. They were just like the haunting screams that had torn and ripped at the air the night we had tried to bring Mom back. It shook, quivering and quaking, the notes lingering after it had faded away into the blackness. It was like when lightning strikes something, and you can hear the thunder echoing and booming after the intense flash is gone. I stood in the black hall, all alone, scared out of my wits and wanting to hide like I had when I was little during a storm. Then came another scream born of terror, and I could hear instruments crashing as they hit the wooden floor. It was all happening in the room beyond the door, and I wasn't allowed in.  
It seems I'm never allowed to be there when Brother's in the most pain because he doesn't want me to see him like that. I heard more strangled cries as Winry shouted something to Brother – begging him to work with them; that they were doing the best they could. I stood in front of the door, uncertain. Should I go in, or not? My hand seemed to make up my mind for me, opening the door quickly. I poked my head in, worried.  
"Get out of the room Al!" Winry shouted at me as she tried to hold Brother down as he gasped and panted for breath. I shut the door with a loud bang, scared senseless. Senseless – yeah, I guess I did lose all of my senses for a minute there.  
I couldn't be there, and yet, I had to wait outside that door. It didn't matter that I couldn't see anything, I could hear everything. Even if I wasn't allowed in the same room as him, I was going to be there for Brother. But I was scared, terrified in fact. I was gripped with fear, and I could almost feel the blackness of fear pouring into me, filling me.

"You're doing marvelously, Ed," Penako said admiringly. "I've seen grown men scream and break down during this part of the operation."  
"This is nothing," Ed managed to say between clenched teeth. He winced. "Compared to what he's going through."

I sat there in the cold hallway, feeling the chill work its way into the armor, cooling my blood seal. I had pulled my legs up to my chin and put my arms around them, tucking my head down as I sat there in agony. I couldn't go to sleep, I couldn't help, I couldn't do anything. Anything, that is, except wait. I don't know for how many hours I had been sitting there, worrying, when I noticed something strange. I lifted my head up, trying to think about what it was. Or should I say, what was missing.  
Everything was quiet. The screaming had stopped.

The ports had finished being installed, and the auto-mail surgery was over. But the pain was far from it.  
"…It's my fault Al has that body..."  
"He can't eat, sleep, get hurt, or feel…"  
He blames me… he definitely blames me!" Ed cried, a tear rolling down his face as clenched at the sheets. Winry bent over Ed anxiously, her face troubled.  
"That's not true!" she said.  
"Al isn't the sort of boy that would blame you. You'll see by asking him," Penako said gently.  
"I'm afraid to… I'm too scared to ask…" Ed said, his voice quivering.  
"That's why I have to restore him as soon as possible…"

I sat there for hours, waiting, listening. I could hear movement, but beyond that I couldn't make out the murmured words that passed by in that room. I didn't have ears, and the farther away the words were spoken from my blood seal, the harder they were for me to hear. Now that the shaking and thumping had stopped in the other room, it seemed to have crept out into my world. The world was spinning in front of me, and I was shivering so badly that my armor was shaking. I was a little boy who was terrified. How couldn't I be?  
The night passed with Brother sleeping fitfully, hooked up to a machine that would keep his condition steady. I found all of this out later, putting the pieces together.

I sat there in the dark and thought back to how that afternoon had started. Brother had laid down in the bed for his surgery, propped up against the pillow. Bandages covered where his limbs should have been.  
"When I get through with this Al, I'm going to get your body back, I swear," Brother said with a confident smile and look on his face.  
I shook my head. "And your arm and leg too, Brother," I said with a smile in my voice and eyes.  
Brother laid down flat, trying to mentally prepare himself as Winry and Granny started laying out their tools.  
"How long should the rehabilitation process take?" Brother asked.  
"I should say about three years," Granny said as she laid out a screw driver.  
Brother looked up at the ceiling. "I'm going to do it in one," he said, his eyes flashing and his jaw set.  
Granny smiled at his resolve. "You're going to have yourself coughing up blood, you know that?" she asked.  
Brother nodded his head. He knew exactly what it would take and what he was doing. But he was determined to go through all that pain anyway.

Like Granny had predicted, Brother did cough up blood sometimes.  
For the next several days and nights after the surgical process of putting in the auto-mail ports, Brother was in a fever and barely ever woke up. When he did, it was only for short periods of time when he ate or drank. Then he would fall back exhaustedly into a worried sleep.  
When Brother was in the fever he would have nightmares. Sometimes these nightmares would repeat themselves, over and over again in a vicious cycle. There was one dream in particular that plagued Brother, hurting him from the inside. I remember it quite vividly, above all of the rest. Probably because it had to do with me.  
I remember the first time I saw him have it.


	2. Two Real or Tarnished Silver

Two Real  
Or  
Tarnished Silver

He was laying face down in the gravel, moaning. He was hot all over; his face felt like it was on fire. He could feel where he had been struck, there were swollen places all over his aching body. His right arm and left leg felt like a white-hot poker had been put up to the flesh, like they had been burned. His legs and arms were lying about him at odd angles, his palms resting on the ground. His hands could feel the dirt and gravel beneath them, cold and hard. He lay there, trying to be still so that HE wouldn't find him again. It was inevitable that HE would come, but he wanted to lay here and try to catch his breath first.  
He looked up at the sky. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a lot of grey clouds – their silver linings black with rain. As he watched, they began to let loose their water upon the earth, and he could feel the raindrops upon his hot face. They felt cool and welcoming, bathing his entire body as he lay there, soothing his cuts and bruises and then pelting his back as he lay his head back down again in exhaustion. But this wasn't good, he realized. The rain was going to make it even harder to move. He wrinkled his brow with worry; he knew he couldn't get away like this.  
Then he heard something. His weary body tensed up in fright; he couldn't help it. What he heard was slow, steady, purposeful footsteps coming nearer and nearer every second. They seemed to be circling him, teasing him with their location. At first they seemed to be on his right side, then no, on his left. Then they were coming from behind him; he could hear the heavy footfall, make out that familiar pace. He knew who it was coming after him. He knew who was coming to inflict more pain and suffering, to lay out more blows, to hurt him until he bled; lying there, helpless, his breathing became shorter and faster.  
He knew who it was; it was Al.  
He gasped; he couldn't help it. HE was close, he could tell. That had been a mistake; he could hear the footsteps growing faster and closer, their deadly purpose clear as they rang on the ground. HE had heard him, HE knew where he was. And since HE now knew where HIS prey was, HE was running towards him; no, now HE was there, he could feel HIS presence.  
Then he could see HIS face; HE was bending over him, HIS face intent with hatred and cruelty. HE was not going to make this swift or painless. No, this was going to be pure Hell.  
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked his voice shaky with horror. The rain had already stopped; it had only been a warm spring shower after all. He clenched his fists, grabbing at the rocks and mud beneath his hands; if only he could get away.  
HE didn't answer, but bended in closer, menacingly.

Winry and Penako had just finished checking up on Ed.  
"He's running a high fever," said Penako, blowing smoke lazily from her pipe. "But we did know that he would. It's not too bad – I've seen worse. We'll just give him a sponging before we leave."  
Al sat still in his chair, watching as she and Winry took rags and soaked them in cold water, wringing them out. Then he watched as they gently wiped Ed's whole body down, Penako even managing to wipe Ed's back some. When they were about done, Winry wiped down Ed's face with some water, dabbing at his forehead. She was confused when his brow didn't relax but instead looked worried.  
"We'll be back in a little while, Al," she said, turning around to look him in the face. She put on her best reassuring smile as she took out the rags and followed Granny. "I'm going to make stew for lunch!"  
"Only after you take care of those rags, missy," Penako said as she puffed at her pipe.  
"Of course Granny," Winry said as she closed the door behind them.  
Al looked around the room. Now that they were gone, he noticed how disorderly the place was – the chairs were everywhere, strewn about the room all topsy-turvy. He needed to take care of this mess and clean up some.  
Al stood up slowly and began moving the chairs to one corner of the room where they would be out of everyone's way. First he cleared the right side of the room completely, and then he cleaned the left side of the room. While he was doing this, he noticed that Brother's breathing seemed to be getting faster and deeper; that couldn't be good. When he was done and satisfied with his work, he picked up his chair and returned to his brother's bed side.  
Then Ed gasped. Al's soul's eyes widened and he hurried to the bedside, lugging his chair like it was weightless. He leaned over Brother, trying to see what could be wrong. Then Ed's body stiffened up, his face distorted in pain as he grabbed at his blankets, fists clenched.  
"What are you going to do to me?" Ed's voice asked shakily. Al gasped.

He wasn't sure what HE was going to do to him; but whatever it was, he knew that it was going to leave him half dead and bloody. His breathing was coming in shorter gasps; his lungs were starting to feel the effects of the blows and were aching.  
He opened his tired, swollen eyelids to look at HIM again. HIS eyes were murderous, HIS huge body thinking of only how hurtful and damaging it could be. How could HE best hurt this person lying before HIM, sprawled out upon the mud with no way to move? Nowhere to go?  
As if in answer to his spoken question, he saw HIM lift up HIS huge iron fist, ready to strike. It was poised in the air, ready to inflict more pain and torture.  
"Brother…" HE growled; hate vibrating from every fiber of HIS being. HIS voice was metallic and echoing, the word ricocheting and reverberating over and over again, quieter and quieter every time. "Brother… brother… brother…" HIS eyes were narrowed, red slits of malice.  
"NO Please!" he shouted. "Don't hit me Al! Don't hit me, please!" His shoulders began to shake as he cried, tears running down his bloody face. "Don't hit me…" he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper.  
The fist was still in the air – and then it was coming down upon him, too fast to make out clearly. He shut his eyes, clenching them closed so that he couldn't see. It was bad enough to feel the pain of the blows; but more than anything, he didn't want to see his brother inflicting them.

Al was worried – what was Brother talking about? Why would Brother ask what he was going to do to him? He had looked scared…  
Ed's breathing was growing more ragged. It sounded as though he was having trouble breathing, like it hurt to inhale. Al leaned over Brother, filled with concern.  
Suddenly, Ed's eyes snapped wide open. They were feverish and wild; taking in and seeing nothing as they looked around the room in confusion. Al was surprised, but he sat still in suspense. Was this good? Was Brother going to come out of the fever? That would be great news for Granny and Winry!  
Ed looked as though he were in a daze, his golden eyes glazed over as they roved around the room. Then they came to rest upon Al. They began to focus, the first hint of recognition coming over Ed's face; recognition that led to terror. Fear and dread flooded his features. He recoiled from his little brother, as if he was trying to get away from him. Al's eyes were shocked and sad. Why would Brother look afraid of him?  
He raised his hand slowly to put it on Ed's shoulder. He wanted Brother to know that he was there – that he would always be there.  
"Brother…" Al said softly and soothingly, trying to calm him down. His voice was both anxious and confused.  
"NO Please!" Ed shouted. "Don't hit me Al! Don't hit me, please!" His shoulders began to shake as he cried, tears running down his hot fevered face. "Don't hit me…" he pleaded.  
Al was rooted to the spot. He couldn't move; he couldn't think.  
"Brother?!" he asked, completely confused. He tried putting his hand down gently on Ed's shoulder again, but this time Ed flinched and shut his eyes, terror written all over his features. Ed set his jaw tight and held his body rigid, curling up some as though he were in great pain.

Ed held his eyes shut tightly, clenching his fists so that he wouldn't scream out from the pain. HE was hitting him over and over again – Ed's chest was throbbing from the pain of the blows. The punches stopped coming for a few seconds and Ed somehow managed to curl up, trying to ease the pain in his chest. He breathed heavily, his lungs aching. Again, the blows came down, hard and fast – one fist smashed into his gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. Then the other fist rained down upon him, once, twice, thrice, causing him to be flung about like a rag doll.  
He felt like a flag blowing in the wind; having no say in what was happening as it was flung about. Ed opened his eyes a little bit as he heard something – it sounded like ghostly voices whirling around him in a bone-chilling breeze. It was at that moment that he saw Al bearing down upon him, black and petrifying, fists poised to cause more damage. He shut his eyes as he felt the fists beating his sides and stomach.  
He knew he deserved this. He deserved every single blow that Al laid upon him and worse. He didn't even deserve death; he deserved something worse than death in his own eyes. He had ruined his little brother's life – had taken everything away from him, even after he had already lost his mother. What kind of an older brother was he? He was Al's only family and he had ruined his life. He had wasted his brother's life – and for what?  
The worst part of all was that he was the one who still had his body – he was the one who should've been taken! Why had Al been taken? Why couldn't he have just died so that Al would be ok? Why did Al have to be the one bonded to the armor – where he could feel nothing, nor eat, nor sleep – never truly live. Why had he been allowed to live – to breathe another draught of air again? What ever happened to Fairness in the world? It never seemed to be in their favor.  
And now Al despised him; wanted to hurt him and inflict the pain Ed caused him back onto Ed. He had every right to; but it still was pure torture for Ed to know that the only person he had left in the world hated him.  
A tear came down, unbidden, from Ed's eye. "No Al, no… stop it," he begged. Then he gasped as he was flung onto his back, his head hitting the ground. Eyes wide open, he saw Al glowering above him. The world went black as he felt something heavy upon his chest, restricting his breathing even more. He knew now that Al was leaning over him, his foot upon his chest, keeping Ed's breathing to a shallow, weak minimum. The foot pressed down upon him, causing dots to flash before his eyes.  
The world was a black pit. Ed was losing consciousness; he could only see black and could barely feel anything anymore. The one thing that he could still feel was Al's foot upon him, pushing down a little more every second or so, squeezing the life out of him. He knew he deserved this… he knew he deserved this…  
The black began to swirl and dance before his eyes – it became darker every second. Then Al pressed down his foot bone-crushingly hard onto Ed's chest, and there were bright white lights dancing like fairies in the black. They whirled like demons, taunting him by turning into different shapes, coming closer into view but then darting back beyond the reach of his sight. Sometimes they sparkled like snow caught by the sunlight, only to turn bland and grey like ashes as they got his hopes up.  
Ed could hear a rattling in his chest; he knew that he wasn't breathing enough. His gasping was so labored… so… hard…  
Everything to Edward faded in a swirl of colors and sounds.

Ed was coughing, his whole body shaking as they ripped at his spine. He moaned as his breathing worsened. Then he began to cough harshly – once, twice, thrice, causing him to be flung about like a rag doll. His body looked like it was being torn apart from the inside as he coughed – his back arching violently as his sides shook from the impact of one cough that left him gasping for air.  
But he didn't have much time to try to get more air, as his body collapsed into a fit of coughing that looked like convulsions.  
"No Al, no… stop it," he begged. His eyes flew open. Al became alarmed when he saw that they were wide with terror as Ed stared at Al's face. Then they shut again, like drapes close out all light. Ed gasped for air, his chest going up and down rapidly like someone who is drowning and needs to fill their lungs with air.  
"He thinks I'm hurting him…" Al realized, devastated.  
Al was scared – no, he was frightened out of his wits. Brother was lying on his bed, twisted up with pain and coughing, clutching at his stomach as he tried to breathe.  
"Winry! Granny! Come quick – something is wrong with Brother!" Al shouted in alarm as he ran to the door.  
"What is it Al?!" Winry yelled as she ran into the room, apron flying from behind her. Her serious blue eyes took in the situation immediately, as she saw Ed roll over and moan deliriously. Ed put his flesh fist to his mouth, coughs wracking his frame.  
"Granny!" she shouted as loud as she could. "Ed needs a 10-65 right now! Do we have one in the storage room?!"  
Penako's voice could faintly be heard as she ran towards the store room, chiding, "Of course we do!"  
The next few minutes were a flurry of excitement as Winry and Penako ran around, Al trying to stay out of the way.  
Winry shouted at Al to go get some rags and a bowl of hot water, and he ran as fast as he could. If he could have cried he would've, but he couldn't in the armor. Instead, his soul was aching with pain and sorrow as he ran back with the hot water he couldn't feel the temperature of into the bedroom.

Al sat alone on his bed, his head down, staring at nothing and thinking about everything. He had gone into what was his bedroom now, and the sun's fading light cast shapes onto the floor. Every now and then could be heard a little sob from him, even though there were no tears.  
"Hey Al – he's going to be ok," Winry said as she put her arm over his shoulder. She had entered the room silently, slipping in without being noticed.  
"Really!?" Al asked his voice surprised and sorrowful. His eyes looked up at her, sad and gentle, yet fearful.  
"Yeah Al, he's going to be just fine. We had to give him a shot to relieve the coughing fits, but he's all right now. The only bad part is that he still has the fever, but Granny thinks that his temperature might go down soon."  
Al sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging. "Can I go see him now?" he asked, his voice unsteady.  
"Sure thing," Winry said gently as she watched Al leave the room.

Al entered the room to see Penako tucking the blankets around a fitful Ed. "Hey there Al," she said as she walked around the bed briskly, tucking in more blanket with every word.  
"Hey Granny," Al said softly.  
Penako was quiet as Al sat down next to Ed.  
"He shouldn't have to go through this," she thought to herself as she began cleaning up tools.  
Al sat beside the bed, hoping that Brother was going to be ok – they said that he would, but he wasn't sure. He was scared. Mom had been sick, and then they had lost her. He didn't want to lose Brother too. No, no; he couldn't live without Brother. He didn't want to think about life without him.  
Ed sighed wearily as his breathing became more normal, and he fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Author's Note

As stated in the summary, there will not be any more of this story. This is partially due to this having been written over a year ago, the other reason being that I believe my writing style and fanfiction ideas have changed a lot since then.

With that being said, I hope you enjoyed this story and as always, please take a moment to review it!


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